277

Logical, Honest, Mistake

The ale he had practically inhaled only moments ago causing blood to rush around his body. "Ellena," he repeated – his words came out as whispers. His inebriated state disallowing him the clarity to see how upset Ellena was. In truth, he had missed her far too much to actually care.

They had kept in touch every moon, and Brandon had wanted to surprise her with his presence when she had written to him saying she was shocked at their father's behaviour to not include him in a feast! Lord Dustin would be attending, and his house. So why not Brandon? She was naive enough to believe the heir would not be included in a large feast after all those years.

Well, he might have been caught up in Barrowton when the Dustin's had left without him. For good reason. By his horses' saddle lay two swords, small, but two swords still. One for Lyanna and one for Benjen, as he had promised.

Ellena had also written to Brandon that Barbrey had been invited, and she was keen to meet the girl who was, in his words, obsessed with him.

Letters could only do so much for a man, and he had slowly begun to call out her name when he would visit the whores of Barrowton. Never around Barbrey though, she'd surely find a way to bring it back to Rickard and try to turn it into a way for Ellena to be sent away, or worse for Brandon to marry Barbrey.

"Has the ale made you inept? I do not wish to converse with you." Ellena snapped back, gathering her skirts and standing from the wooden bench.

Her voice sent all sorts of chills down his spine. Brandon wanted to damn all those in the Great Hall, push the food on the table aside and take her right there and then, but couldn't. Firstly, they'd both be killed for the sin of lying with one's sibling and secondly, Rickard would implode at the sight. Brandon wondered what his father would say had he read the letters they had sent each other, professing their love. He knew it was wrong, he knew that and did not need to be reminded of it. "Sit down," he prodded, his hand brushing her elbow and trying to force her back into her seat.

She scoffed, shrugging him off for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

"You are angry with me, why?" Brandon said, his pouty lips infuriating her even more.

Ellena didn't have a chance to respond however, her eyes darted to the tall and slim woman who was making her way over to them. Barbrey. She wrapped her arms around him, as one would a lover. Had she no shame? An unmarried lady touching the heir to Winterfell like that. She left the Hall in haste, not bothering to excuse herself or wish the guests she had spent the night talking to – like Wendel – good night. That was a problem for morning Ellena, right now she just wanted to be as alone as alone could get.

As soon as she passed the doors to the Hall she was met with a cool breeze, wrapping her arms around herself Ellena huddled to her rooms. Her closed door muffled the chants, songs and music that rang from the Hall, and quietened the chatter of servants that came from the kitchens and stables.

Ellena sighed, sitting down at the edge of her bed. It took everything in her to not cry. Why was the world so cruel to her? Growing up she was told by her father, old Nan, gods everyone that the gods answered prayers. She felt as if she was talking to no one and nothing. Her prayers were unanswered. Her pleas for signs of a chance at romance with Brandon fell on deaf ears too apparently. Ellena wondered if people were making up experiencing miracles and answered prayers from the gods. Perhaps she had to participate more. Religion wasn't all about asking and begging and crying for something ... or in her case someone. And outside of the castle walls, she was sure there was a mother unable to feed her child, a village plagued with no crops – her self-destructive thoughts were cut off by a knock on her door.

"Who is it?" Ellena called out – surely people knew not to pass the Lord's quarters and go knocking at random doors?

The door pushed open slightly, as soon as Ellena saw Brandon try to squeeze in she stood from her bed and attempted to force the door shut but the obvious strength disparity showed. A small nudge from Brandon's side sent her flying and he walked right in.

"Get out!" Ellena huffed, regaining her composure as Brandon closed the door behind him.

He ignored her, "now we can speak freely," Brandon said, making himself comfortable on her bed. "Gods, you know I've never been in your room. You are so ... clean." He looked around at the tidy room, there was not a thing out of place. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen, her needlework was tucked away into a corner, decorative ornaments and protective wheels were laid out with purpose on the wall. there was a rug by her bed, her night slippers next to her vanity, which also had one brush and one comb on it. There was a short silence as Brandon continued to look around the room, "come and sit. We've waited years for this moment, you won't let it go for Barbrey will you?"

Ellena pointed her index finger at him, "you," she huffed, "you are ..." she was lost for words and felt her cheeks grow hot, "if father sees-,"

"He'll punish us. I think we've established that dear Ellena," he played with the furs on her bed and patted them, "can we not just finish the night calmly?"

Calm!? He wants to speak of calm.

Against her mind Ellena sat down next to him, feeling the anger leave her body as he placed his hand on hers. Though she could not help remembering how differently he acted around Barbrey than she had expected – if he did not like her why did he behave as if he did? The letters he had written had made him seem much more ... well ... less like this Brandon. She wasn't sure if it was the ale or the image of Brandon that Ellena had built in her head.

"You will take my maidenhood," his ears perked at her words, "and dishonour me. Then you will marry a lady, a real lady with a father and mother, with a name that is not Snow, and eventually when ... if ... father finds a match for me my husband will find I am deflowered, and I will live my days out as a Septa."

He gazed at her, her words catching him by surprise. "Aye? And what else did the forest witch tell you?" he laughed at her silly presumptions, "do not curse yourself with what could be and what will be."

"I am merely reminding myself of the gravity of our situation," Ellena's soft voice responded. She stood from the bed, arms behind her back, and patiently looked down at Brandon. "Letters were exciting, but I must think logically. Good night Brandon."

"And you have grown wise in one night? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Brandon demanded, blinking as she barked orders at him. He stood from his seat abruptly. He could not believe the same girl who had sent him letters upon letters professing her liking to him, how she had been heartbroken when their father had cut his stay short, how she-

His thoughts were interrupted. "Yes, I have seen you with Barbrey." He rolled his eyes, but Ellena continued. "I am not jealous Brandon. I am just saving us both heartache and embarrassment."

"It will never be found out if neither of us speaks of it. My," he stuttered, almost saving the word love, "I do not seek you because of your maidenhood Ellena. I want you because I think, no I know, that we are one and the same. I am the sun, and you are the moon, and the world could not exist without us," he recited the words she had written to him, Ellena scoffed but made no motions to move as he took her hand and placed it above his beating heart. "You are water, and I am the tree. You are the doe, and I the hunter – I could read your letters from the back of my mind – especially that one about how lonely her nights were," he smirked as he said the last sentence.

"That's enough Brandon," Ellena said snatching her hand back, she felt her cheeks grow hot. Had she really written those words? It must have been something done in the heat of the moment.

Brandon laughed, tilting her chin with his index finger to face him properly. "We never went from playing in the mud to kissing. It is something that came over me, that day. You looked, and still look, as beautiful as ever. No woman, not even Barbrey, could match your beauty to me." Ellena perked her brow at him, wanting him to continue stroking her ego as if she hadn't been raging at him a few moments earlier.

Brandon moved his finger to her lips; his cool breath tickling her nose. He was not the type to ask for permission to kiss a girl, so he kissed her without warning.

Before her senses could leave her for good Ellena pushed him away, wiped her lips with the back of her hand and shuffled towards the door. Opening the door, she motioned for Brandon to leave and he did without a word. Perhaps this would be their new form of letters, stolen kisses and words better left unsaid. There wasn't anything to say anyway, Brandon had been given the confirmation he needed that she wasn't truly upset with him.

That would have been completely fine had Roose Bolton not watched from the murky floors of Winterfell as the stocky figure of Brandon Stark stumbled from a room in the Lord's quarters, down the steps and back into the Hall.

...

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now how do i explain that i had very bad writers block. i need crack or something i cant keep getting these month long blocks and expect to be a writer! anyway!

i hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought? this was more of a filler so there's not much to really discuss i guess but it's good to be back :)

I'm sorry if the characters seem off I'm trying to get my feel for them back after not writing them for so long if that makes sense?